The Ancient's Still
by VenomPepsi
Summary: What do the Brewmaster, Tusk and Bristleback have in common? An appreciation for the finer things in life. Namely, alcohol. Between battles, the trio meander off the beaten path and spend their time in a little pub they call their own. Other heroes visit, and sample the fine selection of booze the Ancient's Still has to offer, while getting to know the owners a little better.
1. Chapter 1

Every time without fail, before their names were called up to serve in battle for the Ancient's, Rigwarl, Ymir and the Brewmaster would each throw back a tumbler. Then after the fight they'd throw back another.

Or twenty. It depended on whether they won or lost.

Sometimes.

The quaint, abandoned tavern they came across one day while searching for a bar served as their drinking hole. A few minutes off the beaten path, was their two story pub, and vacation home for the trio. Nestled in a clearing of the nearby forest, the decrepit shack stood, lonely and pitiful. When the three regular boozers explored the insides, they glanced about with admiration, and slight jealousy at what the place once was.

The bottom floor was one whole room, scattered with cobwebs and splintered furniture. Along the left wall was a bar, void of any drinks, and filled with many bugs. On the other side of the door, a stage and its nearby musician's area stood silent, undercover of the second floor. The stage's tattered and torn curtains were drawn on the emptiness of the room. Opposite from the bar was a wall of seating booths, sheltered under the staircase to the second floor. Upstairs, the bordered landing was a narrow one way street for a few feet, until it opened up to a large landing area, with a only single grotty sofa left. Along the walls of the upstairs were doors, each leading into a room for travelers or for some lucky folk, though each of these rooms were in worse condition than the last.

It was a unanimous no-brainer for Rigwarl, Ymir and Magnix. They had to fix it up. Even if they had little to no knowledge on carpentry or interior design or the like, whatever they ended up with was going to be a hundred times better than when they found it. Though their refurbishing of the wooden shack was amateur at best, it made do for the trio. The bar was restocked, the floor boards didn't threaten to collapse under their weight and most of the webs were gone. Rigwarl tried to fix the roof on his own, but gave up quickly and shoved the job onto Ymir's shoulders. As long as they had beer on the tap, thanks to Magnix, a roof over their head, thanks to Ymir, and seats to sit in, thanks to Rigwarl, they were happy.

Each visit to their home-away-from-home, the three best friends shared stories of their life before the battling on either side of the river began. Tales of adventure to new lands, legendary brawls with gods and kings, discoveries of treasures in ancient tombs. All were thrown across their circular table next to the bar. Each yarn was told as truthfully and as honestly as a man with six pints of ale down their throat would.

"Then next thing I knew, I was standing face to face with a frost dragon. Ho boy," Tusk began chuckling, "did his jaw shatter something fierce. Suppose he didn't know I break ice like Rigwarl here loses fights!" Magnix and Ymir bellowed in laughter, slapping their knees and slapping the table the trio sat at.

"Oi!" The livid Rigwarl roared, his sharp finger pointed up at his cheerful friend. "You and I both know that since I got 'ere, I got even." The one-eyed ex-bouncer's frown turned into triumphant and smug grin. Tusk's smile stayed, however.

"I suppose you're right Rigwarl. You've only improved since I first met you in that pub so long ago."

"Don't you know it."

"Well I'm still one up on both of you! Aha!" The Brewmaster exclaimed joyfully, jumping from his chair and grabbing them both under his arms tight, a full tankard of ale in each hand. "I hope you know that hedgehog!"

"Yeah, it's not like you can't split into three ghosts or nothin'." Bristleback sarcastically grumbled out out from under his big panda bear arm. With mischievous grin, Rigwarl reached around his back and plucked one of his sharper spines from his hide. Magnix heard only a sadistic giggle before a stabbing pain erupted from his hind quarters.

"Ow!" He squealed, letting the pair go and dropping his two drinks. Loud guffawing began exploding from Ymir and Rigwarl as they watched the resident bartender rubbing his boo-booed behind. When Tusk's chuckling calmed down to an occasional wheeze, a rapping came at the door.

"Get that will you?" Magnix moaned. While Bristleback's cackling continued, the Brewmaster grumbled "I need a new drink," as he hobbled over to the counter. With a loyal, cheerful salute, Tusk went to see who was tapping.

Grasping the rusted the handle with his famed fist, the faint voices of the visitors entered his ears. All three he recognized, kind of, bringing his cool, northern heart to warm. Though Bristleback didn't enjoy other people coming to their barroom, both Tusk and Magnix welcomed it with open arms.

"Welcome..." he slowly trailed off, looking quizzically at the three new guests to wander to their door. His guess was wrong. Very wrong. Usually it was Sylla, Ulfsaar and Furion who turned up looking for a quick cold one. They were the only ones who knew that the placed existed, since they stumbled upon Rigwarl hanging from the roof with a rope tied around his ankle. That was shortly before Tusk was given the job of fixing the roof.

This time however, a different group of three stood at the doorway. Twitching in every direction, Rubick the Grand Magus looked on with muffled gasps of awe. On either side of him, both half his size, was Meepo, and Slark, both looking very excited.

"Hello Ymir!" Rubick exclaimed, holding out his green, gloved hand. Tusk joyfully accepted and shook with vigor, something Rubick giggled joyfully at. "Oh, it's good to see you in a place where the threat of death isn't so high." The bear held in the urge to scoff as he glanced down out the corner of his eye at the nearby ex-convict.

"You too wizard. Please, come in." He stepped aside, rolling his arm and urging them to enter. Instantly, the tunnel rat and the ex-con's eyes lit up as they lay upon the bar, manned by the Brewmaster. They ran forward, leaving behind a chuckling Rubick to find a seat.

"Um, Rubick?" Tusk closed the door behind him, lest some of the wildlife pay a visit. As the magus stood there, expectantly waiting for a question he knew was coming and knew the answer to, the northern born bear mentally ran over ways in which ask as tactfully as possible. "Now, I'm not saying those two are, y'know, evil bad guys, but are you sure they're not?"

As awkward and rotten it felt for him to ask, Ymir felt justified in popping the question. They flew the flag of the Dire. They were among the ranks of Lucifer and demons and undead, fighting on their side, day in, day out. Though he doubted Meepo had the same long term goal as the Doombringer, he didn't doubt there was a reason why the Ancient chose him for its side.

"Those two? Bah, they're harmless." He scoffed, confusing, and slightly annoying the joint owner. Calling either one of them 'harmless' was a flat out lie, and both of them knew it. Catching his raised brow, Rubick continued. "We may disagree regularly and we may have differing morals, but I must concede, these two are my friends. As much as I hate to admit it." He whined sarcastically, giggling for a second after.

Tusk opened to his mouth to question the absurdity of the grand magus hanging around with a fish out of water and a geomancer with a split something disorder.

"And before you ask why, simply because they are fun. The two of them are a rather big joy to be around. Everyone else tells me, 'you must use your abilities wisely'." Tusk recognized the voice he was doing a remarkably good job at impersonating, who he assumed was the Templar Assassin.

"If you do not trust them, at least trust me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a glass to empty." And with, Rubick marched over to his sitting compadres, both having quickly gulped down a pint each. Tusk chuckled as they began urging him to catch up, and heard theirs, and Magnix's chanting as he did.

As he watched, a grin plastered over his face, he couldn't bring himself to be dislike the two Dire patrons based on that badge alone. Off the battlefield, he was determined to give them a chance.

Ymir was about to join them before 'I don't bloody trust 'em' was whispered in his ear. Crouched by his side, attempting to keep his rather large stature out of sight, Bristleback eyed both Meepo and Slark, and even Rubick with suspicion.

"Rigwarl, why?" He sighed, clutching the bridge of his nose. When he thought about it, his spiny friend had more than enough reason to distrust them, given he wasn't involved in the earlier conversation with the wizard.

"They's Dire! Or 'ave you forgot about that?" He hissed through gritted teeth, returning to glare at the oblivious soon-to-be drunks.

"They are also just looking for a drink. Come on Bristle, let's just go say hello. Trust me, they won't cause trouble." Sensing his stubbornness, Rigwarl sighed and deflated, slumping down and slowly following him to the counter. While he was walking over, Tusk noticed the uncomfortable dryness in his mouth, probably from not consuming his usual seven pints by that point in the evening.

"Hey! Ymir! Thanks for letting these three in. They're fun!" Magnix stood behind the counter, handing out drinks and making his own. "Meepo here was telling us about the time he ran into an ancient stone golem."

"Ah ah ah." He chided playfully, grinning and curling his twig in his mouth. "It was a gargoyle. Not a golem."

"Eh, same difference."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't call Tiny out on your lawn out there a gargoyle would y'?" For a moment, Tusk, Bristleback and the Brewmaster exchanged looked of confusion before returning their attention back to their newest patrons.

"What? You can't see 'im? Never mind, as I was sayin', I found this huge, underground cathedral, yeah. Like huge! Four times the size of this place. Thing was covered in these really spooky bat things, and just as I was about to bail on account of seeing one of 'em move in the corner of my eye, I see it." Everyone apart from Rigwarl was fascinated in the story, subconsciously leaning in to circle the geomancer. "The biggest gem I've ever seen in my life. I'd say the thing was as big as Brewy's belly here, but as hard as it is to believe, that wouldn't give the jewel justice."

Rigwarl tried, really, really tried to not let out the snicker he desperately tried to hold in, but just couldn't. Thankfully, only Tusk noticed, glancing his way and giving a knowing smile and a pat on the back of the neck. It took quite some time for Ymir to stop patting him on the back when he first met him.

"I ran over to it, just in awe of the size of it. Y'know, I'd say the thing could've been classified as a wonder of the world or somethin'. When I got near it, a freakin' gargoyle came swooping out from behind me and snatched it up!"

"Was the same one I saw before. The damn flapping rock was huge! No clue how it could stay airborne considering how heavy it was. Now that I think about it, it kinda looked like that guy Visage, but four times as big, and not all ghosty at the bottom. Damn merchant never warned me about flying sculptures."

"So anyways," he paused, taking a long sip from his ale, frustrating his audience to no end, "the freakin' rock was making passes around the room, even comin' in and takin' swipes at me a few times, so, I decided to clip its wings, know what I mean? Next time it came by for a pass, I got my net out and bam!" He exclaimed, bouncing up in his chair. "Caught!"

"So wha' 'append to it?" Slark asked, excited to hear the conclusion to one of the many of Meepo's tales. Slark was almost certain he was lying. Almost. There was sometimes truth to his buddies tales.

"Oh! Yeah. The rest o' me came in and smacked it around a bit wit' our diggers. Sadly though, damn thing used the gem to break its fall when I got with my net."

"Such a shame." Rubick moaned, resting his head in his hand.

"Damn right it was," Meepo exclaimed loudly, "thing would've been worth a fortune! Could've bought an island with it."

For just a second, silence penetrated their group, though not one that was unwelcome. And as usually, Magnix was the one to break it.

"Let's all have another round! Whether you're done with this one or not." He grinned slyly, eyes trained on the magus who had been having trouble taking the latest pint down.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" Rigwarl began cheering, almost instantly gaining the following of all but Rubick himself. Their chanting got louder and louder, their own empty tankards being slamming off the wooden counter on every beat, until final the magus caved, rolling up his mask to clear his mouth and downing the drink.

"Good goin' Ru'!" Slark called out, grasping the one of the new tankards Magnix had placed out.

Out of the blue, with a fresh beer in hand, Rubick thrust his arm in the air, contents of the cup swishing out slightly. "To new friends!" He exclaimed, beaming greatly under his mask as the five others did the same.

"To new friends!"


	2. Chapter 2

Wide trails of wet mud, broken quills, fur and a few drops of ale lead up to the usual table of Tusk, Bristleback and the Brewmaster. The breathing of each hero was haggard and wheezy. Bandages were scattered about their body, one even strapped tightly around Magnix's precious barrel. The only eye that wasn't sporting an admirable shiner was Rigwarl's missing one. All at once, their eyes that struggled to stay open looked up at each other, exchanged tired and exhausted glances, and at the same time, they broke out into labored chuckling.

"Worth it!" Each of them bellowed as they pulled mugs out from under the table and bashed them together. Who knew fighting N'aix and Weaver, that annoying little bug, while all five of them were hammered could be so fun. Heck, even the damned zombie was laughing and dancing arm in arm with Rigwarl by the end of the battle. Though the two warned him, Rigwarl knew that the creepy looking bugger only needed a drink to stop his rambling about his master.

After his attuned senses picked up that the two before him didn't have a full glass, the Brewmaster simply unloosened the bandage around his drum slightly to dispense the drinks.

They had been waiting so long to get back to their rundown tavern in the middle of nowhere. When they walked through the doorway it felt like a second Frostivus.

Constant warring between ten warriors who were hellbent on the other five's demise, commanding an army of limitless numbers took its toll on the three barroom brawlers. Any time they received out there to themselves was always interrupted and thrown away quicker than it came. Be it by a tower in need of defense, or a squad of enemies trying to assassinate them, they could never catch a break. Sleeping in the jungles of the Dire side of the river or anywhere for that matter, could never really be considered sleeping. Heck, sometimes their own base wasn't even safe enough. You never knew when a hook was to drag you to your death. The beds one floor above had no mattress and were simply a pillow and a thin cloth sheet, and just the thought of the rough, hard floorboards to lie on was enough to keep contempt smiles upon their faces.

A few minutes before they arrived, as they were slowly limping their way to the pub, the trio had unanimously agreed to permanently move in. Walking to and fro the bar, every night while so inebriated they couldn't see straight had become too much of a hassle, too quickly. "So why not move?" Ymir bluntly suggested. Since none of them could think of a reason why not, they settled it.

With beaming smiles and frequent bouts of laughter, the three live-in barmen began recalling their latest triumph. Finding victory against the horrifying Lifestealer and infruiating little Weaver was always a difficult task, but somehow they pulled it off. Considering they did succeed, celebrations could not be ignored.

They chanted and sang, bragged and boasted, Rigwarl not believing his own tale he spun to extraordinary levels of falseness, going as far as to include a hero who wasn't even present in the battle, eliciting hearty laughter from the two bears.

Even if they were laughing at his expense, Bristleback didn't mind, as he was laughing at himself too. 'Who better to laugh at than yourself?' he thought. When he started remembering people who weren't even there, he thought for just a split moment, that maybe he should slow down on the booze. His eyes burst open violently as soon as he heard his treacherous thought. Swiftly, he shut himself up with another three whole pints.

Ymir and Magnix watched with raised eyebrows as Rigwarl gulped down a trio of tankards, only seconds before finishing one.

From the door, a gentle knock echoed into Tusk's ears. Why Magnix nor Rigwarl heard it yet he did, he placed down to the higher levels alcohol in their system than him. Rising to his feet, and almost falling over in the process, Ymir made his wavy way to the door, weaving in and around the tables and chairs scattered about the room.

With a giant sloppy grin, he flung the door open wide, and his inebriation disappeared when a very familiar voice danced into his ears.

"So this is how you've been spending your time Ymir?" Rylai, the Crystal Maiden looked up at him playfully, arms crossed, and a faint cloud of ice floating out of nostrils with each one of her puffs of breath. Tusk seemed to freeze, maybe brought on upon seeing the queen of ice once more, though he knew he had gotten used to the temperature around her years ago. No, just seeing her after so much time brought a snowball to lodge itself in his throat. "Ice got your tongue?" She giggled, melting his heart, but not his frozen tongue.

"Oh, uh, Rylai, it has, I'm, um..." he stuttered. What should he say? Honestly, he felt it had been too long since the last time he saw her. He felt as though he needed to come up with an excuse why he hadn't already visited. Ymir glanced down at the floor, full of guilt and self loathing, feeling worse than any hangover had made him.

Then, as though he was, possessed, the polar bear lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her off the ground and into one of his bear hugs she missed so dearly. This was Rylai, his best friend. She would've understood his absence.

Though the two sometimes shared a battlefield, it rarely gave them time to catch up. Only a hug, a high five or a simply nod before jumping into a fight was all they shared on either side of the river. It felt so informal to the Tuskarr. Like years gone by, her beautiful laughing filled his ears as he span her around. Seeing his little Snowflake again, in his new home, brought back so many happy memories. Teaching her to fish, watching her build a giant igloo with her magic, gazing at the beautiful Cobalt lights together, their first snowball fight.

"We really don't see each other enough." He said softly and sniffling. He didn't care if Magnix or Rigwarl saw. She was his Snowflake. Ymir gently lowered her to the ground, but not out of his hug, the already huge smile he owned growing wider when Rylai nodded in agreement. "Come in Snowflake, please. Let me show you around."

With a long outstretched arm, Ymir welcomed the little girl he met so long ago to his new home. As soon as her foot pressed over the threshold, Rigwarl visibly shivered, tightly wrapping his arms around himself. Excitedly, Tusk ushered her about the room, showing her the bar, the stage, the booths under the stairs, and eventually, his two other friends.

"Magnix, Rigwarl!" He exclaimed, a gentle one armed hug around Rylai's small shoulders, his size dwarfing hers. "Please make my little Snowflake feel welcome."

"Really Ymir? I'm not a kid anymore, y'know." The Crystal Maiden blushed, though only Tusk was familiar enough with her to actually see the tiny change in colour of her cheeks.

"'Ow the 'ell we suppose to do that?" Rigwarl scoffed. "Shovel beer down 'er gullet like we done with them other three weirdos?" The two co-owners of the bar turned to face Ymir, who I'm turn slowly turned to face Rylai.

"I'm okay with that."

Faster than a red floating rock could ever achieve, explosive cheer erupted from the two bears, while the hedgehog merely grumbled gruffly.

"Good even-" Magnix hiccuped as bent over to bow, bouncing straight back upwards as he did. Rylai tried her best to stifle her giggle, but couldn't help herself. The big panda and polar bear smiled and joined in with their first female patron. "Good evening!" He tried again, much louder than his first attempt, though cautious some more air would find its way up. "What would you like to drink?" He politely asked, rounding up the nearby tankards.

"Just an ale, please." She responded, as her hand began roaming into her bag, searching for a few errant gold pieces.

"You're lucky. That's all we have!" His laughter seemed to explode from his mouth, the volume of it being unmatched by any other the Crystal Maiden had met before in her life. Finally, after much panicked searching, her fist grasped a small bundle of gold pieces, and before she had to opportunity to trade them away for her drink, Ymir held her arm down.

"Every drink here is free deary." A surprised brow raised, and Ymir nudged his head to the side, aimed at Magnix.

"It's more fun this way!" He boomed again, grasping Rylai in a bear hug. She much preferred Ymir's, since his left her without a few broken ribs. "It's so great to have another visitor!" The icy lady only chuckled nervously as his head softly nuzzled into her neck. It would take minimal effort for the Brewmaster to actually break one of her bones, and though he would do everything in his power not to, it was pretty clear he had passed his own usual level of drunkenness. Alcohol made mistakes, and Rylai really didn't want to be the product of one.

Plopping her down by the bar, Magnix quickly scurried around to man his post, even donning an uneven bow tie and apron. Rylai giggled when she saw 'kiss the carry' written upon the white cloth. "Four pints of beer, coming up!" He yelled.

"I only ordered one."

"I know. The other three are for me!" He laughed loudly, grinning devilishly when he spotted Rylai's smile.

"How've you been Rylai?" Tusk asked beside her, his face painting a picture of happiness. Just seeing her again brightened his day tenfold. A tankard was plonked down in front of the pair as she opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes glistened with excitement as the frothy liquid spilled over onto the counter they sat at. With as much speed as Rigwarl after his famed temper had been blown, she snatched up her drink and began chugging.

Ymir was impressed. The last time he had visited a bar with her, she refused to go anywhere near the golden liquid. Something about keeping her senses aware or something. Though, that was around the time that her magical abilities were blossoming to their full potential. He understood, and didn't press the matter further, but he still saw her hungry eyes gaze a his drink every half minute.

A satisfied gasp escaped from her lips as she slammed the wooden cup down, empty. "That was good. Can I have another please?" Rylai said so sweetly, grinning madly with a white froth mustache to boot. Magnix, with both hands holding a tankard saluted the maiden, spilling the contents of one down his head. Rylai was about to burst out into uncontrollable laughter, but the Brewmaster and Ymir beat her to it. When the merriment died down, Rylai turned to Ymir, who was wiping tears from his eyes.

"I've been great! You maybe could've visited earlier, but looking around," she paused, "I suppose you been busy." She showed him another smile, and Tusk just couldn't help himself as he pressed forward and hugged her again, gently nuzzling her head into his neck. "I've missed you too Ymir." She sighed.

All the while, sitting by his lonesome, watching the sappy exchange with a few choice words to himself, Rigwarl snorted at the conversing bear and sorceress.

'Oh, their 'uggin' again! 'Ow sweet!' he groaned inwardly. Crossing his arms and huffing loudly, the oversized hedgehog pouted as everyone apart from him enjoyed themselves. Magnix refining his bar tending skills with a head full of alcohol, in two different ways, while Ymir and the Crystal Maiden enjoyed each others company.

'What a joke.' A low growl rumbled from his throat. 'As soon as a bloomin' bird walks through the door, 'e up 'n' fawns over 'er like a moth to a flame.' He thought they were the three amigos. Drunken fighters together until the ancient had fallen. Rigwarl, Ymir and Magnix, taking lanes and putting it on their tab. Not a drinks distributor with a wonky bow tie and a nostalgia stricken puppy.

A harsh bang erupted from the door, knocking Rigwarl from his thoughts. It was a thump strong enough for Rigwarl to see splinters explode from their precious door. Glancing at the others in the room, he noticed none of them seemed to hear someone had arrived, and rather begrudgingly, he went to tell new arrival to sod off. Remembering their last conversation about their roles, Tusk was given chef, as long as every meal wasn't herring or mackerel or some fish from a frozen wasteland. Magnix was obviously given barman, and Rigwarl had been given the role of bouncer, considering his past experience.

Gripping the door handle tightly, he began to inform them that they were not at all welcome, trying as little as possible not to sound so jolly as he did, when a very distinct scoff slithered into his ears.

"Oh my! If it isn't the little porcupine! I should've brought Nova with me. She needs a new chew toy... thing." Standing tall, garbed in her usual attire, Luna Moonfang stared smugly at the livid Rigwarl. Just seeing her stupid helmet and tight, blue jumpsuit sent him charging down the warpath.

"Crazy cat ladies not welcome." His voice growled maliciously. bristlebogs and elves never really got along well. Even before the brief war they had. Rigwarl's mum always told him not to trust an elf, and he didn't need his mother's advice not to trust this particular one. He knew about her, and about her conquests before she met that Sally Menny she would never shut up about. He was about to close the door in her face, blowing raspberries her way as he did, but Luna's palm pressed strongly against the door, knocking him clean off his feet. It was the beer in him, that was what made him lose his balance is all. He didn't get out muscled by a woman. An elfish woman.

"Luna! Welcome!" The bear behind the bar hollered at the newest guest Rigwarl didn't like. "What would you like to drink?"

Just watching her saunter up to the bar, his bar, made the one-eyed bristlebog's blood boil. The sight of her hips, smugly swaying from side to side, one hand arrogantly resting upon them, her plump, infuriating behind sitting down on one of his bar stools! He hated Luna the crazy cat lady with every part of his body! It took all of his willpower not to jump her at that moment. The only thing holding him back was the possibility of being confined to his quarters early. Realising his staring at the elf's backside wasn't going to do anything, he took a long gulp from his tankard, scoffed loudly enough for them all to hear, and returned to his seat. Alone.

Not nearly a minute later, the scrapping of wooden chair legs ground like nails on a chalk board through his ears. Eyes shut and resting, Rigwarl hoped, he prayed, something he hadn't ever done, that the person who wanted to sit near him, wasn't who he thought it was.

"Y' tired Spiky?" The voice of his nightmares sang out. The thought of ignoring her was the first to come to mind, but he knew her well enough. Eventually, his patience would wear thin long before hers, and eventually, she would gloat and gloat and gloat about this. With fists clenched and teeth clamped, he opened his eyes to stare his unrequited nemesis in the face.

"Yes, actually, I am. Some of us 'ad to fight today." He growled with enough malice and hatred to scare even Nevermore or Lucifer back to whatever circle of Hell they came from. "Leave me alone. If y' don't, I might not be able to control what I do next." Never before had he put so much anger into his voice before. If it had been anyone, else, he would've thought of apologising within seconds. But he was a bristlebog, and they never apologised.

"Nah." She chimed before taking a drink. "You're good company." The moment Rigwarl's one, exhausted eye fell to look at her, she couldn't help it. Luna burst out laughing, bumbling something about his face and how it looked. Not wanting to hear anymore of her heavy guffawing, the Bristleback got up with an angry, expletive filled growl. He tried to walk away and find a new table, but a gloved hand grabbed him, surprisingly strong enough to holding him back.

"What?" He seethed, about to blow the roof off and tear a certain elf's head off too.

"What ha' you got against me, Spiky?" He couldn't help it. No more beer for the night be damned, this woman was too much for him to handle. Hearing his 'affectionate' nickname again sent him over the edge.

Faster than she'd ever seen him move, he zipped down to her level, face only inches from hers. To say she wasn't taken by surprise would be a lie. Her face, startled, not that she would ever admit it, was staring at Rigwarl's, angrier than she'd ever seen a living creature before.

"I don't trust you." He spat. "Once a bloodthirsty warlord, always a bloodthirsty warlord." Then, leaving a sour taste in both of their mouths, he left to grab a refill from the bar.

Upon arriving, Ymir was still chatting merrily to his old friend, the ice girl or something, Rigwarl didn't really care for formalities with her. She could hold her own in a fight, that's as much as he needed and wanted to know. When the cracked stool creaked under his weight, Tusk turned briefly to send smile his way, followed by the girl turning and waving cheerily too.

Why then, did he feel like Roshan's arse? Did he feel an almost minuscule amount of guilt and remorse for what he said to Luna? After all, she is an elf. All bristlebogs knew that elves are dainty, fragile creatures, unlike the hard, gruff beasts, the bristlebogs. Offending them was easier than killing them. Was it guilt? Him? Of course not. She was elf that pillaged her way through villages and towns, before getting lost in the woods and saying sorry. It wasn't like she hadn't dedicated her life since then, repenting and doing good deeds where ever she could. Only a chump would feel the need to say sorry.

"I'm guess I'm a chump." He laughed under his breath. Glancing around, on the look out for the idiot with a bow tie, Rigwarl swiped a bottle from behind the counter. Though he would say otherwise, Magnix did have other drinks at hand, but they were either too strong or too valuable to give away for free willy-nilly. They were to give away for free on special occasions however. Diretide and Frostivus were the first things that came to mind.

Feeling the brown liquid burn like lava down his throat, his thoughts once again returned to the woman who sat alone at his table. Maybe it was do with the large amount liquor in his bloodstream, maybe it was because he truly felt bad about what he said, but for whichever reason, he was going to apologise to her. He was going to admit his fault to the most infuriating woman in the universe.

The scraping of wooden chair legs signaled someone came to sit near her. Maybe it was someone she could trust, she'd talk to them about what the ugly hedgehog had said. She laughed to herself as the words resounded in her head. No one knew the bar even existed, and even then, there wasn't a soul that fought beside her that she truly trusted. Mirana came closest, yet she still couldn't stand her presence for long. Something about 'stuck up royal'.

Why she cared what Rigwarl said, she couldn't say, but nevertheless, that bastard plucked something raw. Her past, as much as she tried, didn't seem to go unforgiven, even if everything she did since then was in the name of good. Before looking to see who came to talk, Luna downed the rest of her drink and burped, wiping her damp lips. As she looked up, her eyes glared tightly as Rigwarl sat across her.

"What?" She growled, mimicking the Bristleback's early genuine distain enough to see his brows rise quickly, then soon fall to the usual scowl she was familiar seeing.

"Now, don't go 'n' tell them lot I said this, but..." he coughed in his hand, and nervously looked around the room to his tipsy amigos, feeling the quills on his back stand up all at once. This was a momentous occasion. The first time ever, a bristlebog was to apologise to an elf. "I'm sorry." He squeaked like a frightened Keen. At any moment, Rigwarl expected a gang of wussy elves to run in the bar and start thanking him, and throwing flower necklaces about the room. Or that a bunch of bristlebogs would kick down the door and beat the bountiful snot of of him. His mum being the main perpetrator.

"So what? Your words were true." She moaned, finding it hard to look up from her cup. She also understood the importance of the first bristlebog to elf apology, but her buzz was already dead. It meant almost nothing to her.

"Just 'cause it was true don't mean I should'a said it." Slowly, he slid a scratched shot glass over the table to the glum elf. "I can't believe I'm doin' this, but 'ow's about you earn my trust, 'n' I earn y' forgiveness?" Taking her curious stare as a reason to go on, "if y' can drink me under the table," he said, and slammed down the heavy bottle he had earlier taken from behind the counter, "y'll earn my trust. If I can drink you under there, it means you forgive me. Y've also got an 'ead start." He followed up with a hiccup, bringing an almost invisible smirk to Luna's lips.

Her eyes narrowed harshly, her stunning purple irises turned menacing, baring down on the one eyed brawler. He almost had a heart attack when her lips curled upwards.

"You're on Spiky."


	3. Chapter 3

The lights were dim in the drunken trio's bar. Characters foreign to the creaky chairs of the Ancient's Still sat around the equally creaky tables, unaware of the usual calamities that happened to happen there. Just the night before, for example, had seen a stampede of centaurs and kobolds, and a very displeased Ymir. Somehow, none of the newcomers had noticed the muddied tracks along almost everything.

The deep red, smooth curtains were drawn across the stage. A small flickering light from a hellish looking lantern was held dead center above, casting quite an ominous glow onto the performers who were to make their appearance. Down before the place of performance, a multitude of creatures and people sat, some silent, others chatty. The tables had been moved, to create a semicircle around the stage, instead of the cluster bomb fashion they had before. Three chairs accompanied each table. Both the living, dead and somewhere in between waited patiently in their seats for someone to stand tall in front of them. Or as impatient as a child in the case of Mogul Khan.

"Axe orders this to begin!" He would roar through the murmur of the crowd every so often. Then, when every so often came about, all apart from the two sitting at his table went on as though he never screamed in the first place. Heavy discussion that droned around the room made any single string of conversation impossible to distinguish from another.

Though, Rigwarl couldn't help but pick up the scathing remark the rogue knight sent Ostarion's way. An insult at his, what Sven considered, underhanded need of two lives to win a fight. Quickly this exchange was catapulted into a chair-throwing, obscenity-spewing, fist fight after the Wraith King's jab of overcompensation. The scuffle was only broken apart by the Juggernaut, who had become enamored with the pair's bickering.

Hunched over the bar and nursing a large, fresh, frothy pint of whatever Magnix was serving on that particular day, was the Bristleback. A gnarly looking shiner was held by his good eye, and it was a safe bet to assume there was one coloring his not so good one too. A large portion of quills on his back were bent and broken, and the limp he carried when he waddled through the door and to the counter stung like fishing lance. By dawn, his body was going to be recovered and fixed, thanks to some nifty voodoo magic, but his ego was to remain trampled. The fight before he arrived home was one he was never going to forget, even if he wanted to. A battle almost won, if not for some rash decisions. Some by him, some by his teammates.

"Looking good Spiky." Came Luna's voice from nearby.

Almost as haggard as the bristlebog himself, the warrior of Selemene gingerly sat down at the barstool beside him. Donning a few cuts and bruises of her own, Luna smiled as Rigwarl turned slowly to face her. Just the mild scar of a once dribbling cut on her left cheekbone sent a pang of frustration through his mind.

The wound wasn't the result of a teammates incompetence, but of his own. That was why he felt so enraged he almost punched a hole through the countertop. Rigwarl's expectations of himself were downright self destructive when it came to his alcohol intake or enduring the enemies attacks. Those were his jobs, and that was what he was good at. Frankly, it was all he was good at. If he had a résumé, his skills would be 'getting drunk and getting hit'. Two things that would be the death of him.

Maybe his feeling of needing to do his best, no matter the cost to his well being, came from his mum. Now, he wasn't blaming the old sweetheart. Of course not. He loved the old lady. Everything she taught him, he took to heart.

Old mummy Rigwarl had high hopes for her son ever since he was born. Even if they were only two dreams for the boy, where he came from, getting one of them was a godsend. All she wished for him was to just get out off Slom and get past the age of thirty. Being a son of Slom's less affluent area, and being a bristlebog too, growing to the age of twenty two was like a village elder to most places in comparison. The majority of the populace of Slom comprised of stuck up elves who didn't even care about the rest of the city.

The only act of charity he'd seen from one of them lanky pansies was when a splotch of dirt had stained an elven man's jacket. As the nearest wastebasket was further away than the homeless Keen by his feet, the arrogant prick threw it over the vagabond and laughed. Rigwarl was a lucky bastard to fulfill his mother's dreams for him. It was a shock to him when he hadn't been jailed for murder of a very important person. Which he found himself explaining quite often that V.I.P. equaled elf.

And when those little dreams did come true, and he walked outside of the tall gates of Slom like prisoner who'd served their time, it fueled something inside of him. Told him to be the best blade sponge he could be.

Why? Why, of all the things he could do in his life, why chose to get hurt? The easy answer was that it was something he could do. It was a skill he had, and not getting paid for doing it was a crime. Or it made him a chump.

The hard one though, was something he didn't really want to tell others. Hell, he hadn't. Not a soul had ever heard him explain the real reason why. Sure a few had asked, and everyone of them received the easy answer. A little piece of his 'primitive animal brain', as an elf had once called it, told him the true answer was stupid and wimpy and foolish and that no one cared. Why tell them if it was all those things?

Well, the true answer as to why he tried his absolute hardest to get hurt, was because he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. Stupid, yeah, he knew. There were way too many hurting, and way too many doing the hurting for him to take all of it. But it came from his mum. She eloquently told him, "y've go' fick skin Rigwarl. Ofers don'. Don' matta if y've never met the soul before in ya life or if they's an elf, i's your job t' make sures they don't get 'urt. Who knows? Maybe they'd fank y' fo' it."

Deep down, somewhere beneath all the spikes and scars, he knew this before she even told him. Like it was his calling in life. The ugly Bristlebog with a back carrying more wounds than the oldest dragon in the lands, took the hits, so others didn't have to. It was why the Radiant had chosen him. It felt his true compassion for others, or something like that, he was hammered when it told him. It wished that he fought on its side, even with all his other faults.

Yet, in the last battle, he failed. It might have only been one wayward magic spell before the glowing blue rock had exploded, but the stupid conjured flame or lightning or ice or whatever shouldn't've been anywhere near enough to graze his teammate Luna.

She wasn't the one that was suppose to get hurt. He was. She was just suppose to glow yellow and throw her weird double edged boomerangs.

"Sorry about t'day," he grumbled, finding something oddly compelling in the golden liquid of his cup, "I shouldn't'a lef' y' t' defen' the base a' the end there. If I stayed an' stopped 'em from 'ittin' ya, we might'a just won it." It was becoming ridiculous how often Rigwarl was apologizing to this damned elf. Twice was two more times than he wanted anyone to know. One less than the amount of times he apologized to his own mother.

"Rigwarl, we woulda lost either way. Don't sweat it."

"How d'ya know?"

"How d'ya know we would've won if you stayed?"

His mouth opened quickly, but he hesitated. From a lack of words, not of a fear of what those words were. "I don' know. I jus' know tha' I didn't do wha' I shoulda today."

"Well I suppose that's why we have t'morra." The elf beside him chuckled. Rigwarl did too.

"Thanks." He sighed, patting her on the back.

"Attention everyone!" Every single eye trained on the green and black magus as he stood on the stage. By his side, a reluctant eleven assassin shook her head and stared downwards.

"Welcome all to the Ancient's Still quiz night!" Rubick exclaimed. With a flick of his glowing green hand, a similarly glowing banner flopped down from above. 'Quiz night!' it exclaimed with golden glittery letters, and two crude, smiley drawings of the couple on stage on either end of the paper. "Thank you for the drawings Aggron!" Rubick waved excitedly, while leaned upon his tip toes to see over the crowd.

The two headed ogre sat between a furious red Oglodi and a sleeping old man waved back with both hands, their goofy grins plastered on their faces.

"I drew the one on the left!" His right head gloated, a right handed thumb hooked towards his chest.

"No, I drew the one on the right!" The other head bellowed, his left arm mirroring the right one.

"I didn't say you didn't!"

"Oh right."

"Which one did I draw?"

"Why must Axe be on a team with these idiots!?" Two red, ironclad hands slammed down on the table, jiggling the placed tankards and dribbling some of the contents down the side.

"Teams were chosen at random, now please be quiet." Lanaya scorned, stepping forward and speaking up for the momentarily speechless wizard.

"Yeah, well. Ahem. Like my assistant said, they were chosen at random." It took all Rubick had for him not to react to the vice like pinch the assassin gave him on the utterance of 'assistant'. When Lanaya agreed to partake in the spell stealers nonsensical quiz, she made it clear that he refer to her as answer keeper, and not assistant. Rubick couldn't help himself.

"But this one is asleep!" His large open palms span around, revealing a dozing fundamental with a line of drool down his cheek.

"Huh, uh, wha!" Ezalor, the old man and Keeper of the light sputtered, eyes wide as he jolted his head about the room. "Oh, it's nothing Axe. Let me just rest my eyes then I'll take it out..." Loud snoring exploded from his mouth as he slowly tumbled back to sleep. The Oglodi beside seethed and almost started screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. If not for the glare the spiky thing at the bar was giving him, he would've woke the sleeping fundamental up with a strike from his fist.

"Count your blessings Axe." Across the room, a little purple keenfolk groaned. On one side of the tiny creature was a blue glowing ball. Five even smaller spheres danced around the larger of the floating orbs, as Rizzwrack simply sighed and rolled his eyes when cheery chiming bells sounded from its form. Feeling a sharp prick on his shoulder, the keen sharply turned to face his other team member. A purple ghostly figure, it's pointy finger tapping up and down on his shoulder.

Rizzwrack was in desperate need for his suit.

The purple ghost opened its mouth to speak, but when the words came out nonsensical gibberish erupted. Snippets of words could be heard through the mysterious speech, like 'Keen' and 'ball', but other than that, Rizzwrack was stumped as to what Mercurial the Spectre wished to relay.

When the expression on her face slowly became more and more agitated, the small Keen weakly offered, "...Yes?"

Before he had the chance to ask why the quiz hadn't started, and then apologize for keeping it from starting, the Spectre slapped him across the cheek with enough force to knock him off his chair, and even topple the one underneath the floating Io. Through the buzzing in his ears, Rizzwrack heard a disgusting chortle and low rumbling bells. The low tones of cowbells, church bells, Rizzwrack didn't care, they just sounded like bells, belonged to a seemingly disgruntled Io. It hovered above him, them bopped him on the head a couple of times with its wispy entireity, before oddly returning to the float above the seat of its floor bound chair. The chortling belonged to the tunnel rat Meepo.

"Wham!" He exclaimed, bouncing up in the air, then falling back down on his chair with a crack. "She gotcha good short stuff!"

"I'm the same size as you!" Rizzwrack screamed.

Beside Meepo, the ominous creature of the Outworld, and the tiny fairie dragon Puck held their heads in their very different hands.

"That was the incorrect way to respond." Puck mumbled, earning a curt nod from the Outworld Devourer.

Back on his chair, rubbing the welt growing on his face, Rizzwrack slammed his little tiny Keen fists on the table and screamed at the two dragon like creatures, "How was I suppose to know that!? I have no idea what she said!"

"She asked if, you, Keen, agreed with what the blue ball had said." Puck sang in its oh-so odd way with words. The same way some words held higher inflections and others didn't, for reasons only the little dragon knew. Or no reasons at all. Studying the dragon was deemed a fruitless effort by many for a reason.

"Then what did the blue ball say?"

"We do not know."

Silence crept about the room as Rizzwrack got up and slumped over to the bar. Magnix, one of the twenty to watch the little Keen receive a hit even a golem would flinch at, stood behind his post, awaiting the inevitable question he knew he would hear.

"Whatever is your strongest drink, I want ten of them."

Up on stage, watching the preceding events like it were a show, Rubick and Lanaya racked their brain over how to continue. Everything was upside down. They were the ones that were supposed to be entertaining. Though he couldn't deny, seeing Rizzwrack fume like a volcano at the little Puck's translation was quite humorous. "Hm. I'm not sure how to follow a performance of that... caliber. A break?" He asked his assistant. She nodded. "Good. We'll return to begin the quiz in a moment." Then they both slinked under the curtain.

"Axe counts his blessings."


End file.
